


Unfinished Business

by fastestmanalive



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Lots of UST, M/M, Pining, Slow Build, spoilers for Arrow 3x08 and 3x09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fastestmanalive/pseuds/fastestmanalive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can't expect me to believe that you don't wanna know, once and for all, who would win – me or you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You could've invited everybody, they'd like this.” Barry's voice echoed in the abandoned warehouse halls.

“Well, I know they would love this, but this is just for the two of us,” Oliver retorted.

“You mean the one of you. This was your idea.”

“You can't expect me to believe that you don't wanna know, once and for all, who would win – me or you.”

“You mean, if you don't shoot me in the back?”

“You gotta get over that, Barry,” Oliver said quietly. Barry could practically hear the smugness in his voice.

“Okay,” Barry argued, “I have superpowers. You have arrows that run out.”

“I have strategy and tactical awareness.” Barry had to laugh. To him, it was painfully obvious who would really win in a fight. He just hoped Oliver wouldn't be too mad at him afterwards.

“When I'm fighting you, it's literally like you're standing still.” This time, Oliver laughed. Why wouldn't he see that he had no chance?

“That's tough talk. You ready to back it up?” Oliver challenged.

“Oh yeah. Hey, by the way...”

“Yeah?”

“You were wrong.” Oliver looked surprised. “When you told me I could inspire people, you said you couldn't. But you were wrong. You _can_ inspire. Not as the Arrow, that guy's a douche.” Oliver laughed, but Barry only smiled slightly. This was too important to him to make jokes. “But as Oliver Queen.” Oliver stopped smiling then, looking at Barry with... was that awe?

“Thank you,” Oliver said earnestly. Barry smiled at him. “Since we're sharing... You were wrong, too.”

Barry frowned. “When?”

“Right now. Because you think you can kick my ass.” Barry raised his eyebrows. “I can tell.”

“Well, if you think you can kick mine, you better do it fast,” Barry grinned, looking after Oliver's retreating figure.

“I get it, Barry, _I get it_ , you're fast.” He only sounded _slightly_ annoyed, which Barry counted as a win.

A grin still on his face, he ran to the other side of the room. He tugged his mask over his face. Oliver was facing him again, hood pulled low over his eyes.

“Ready!” he yelled from across the hall.

“Set!” Barry replied.

Instead of answering with “Go!”, Oliver reached behind him and pulled the first arrow out of his quiver. He shot several at Barry at a high rate – for him at least, for Barry it was slow-motion. Barry ran towards him. He thought Oliver would roll to the side or jump up or make some other equally athletic move, but he stayed in the same spot. Was he really that convinced he would win? Barry would have to teach the older man a lesson.

He crashed into Oliver's chest, sending the man flying towards the back wall. Oliver landed on his back with a loud _thud_. He didn't make a sound, which worried Barry a little. Had he overdone it?

He walked to the man in normal speed, but Oliver already had another arrow nocked and was aiming for Barry's torso. Of course, Barry saw it coming and dodged it.

They struggled like this for a while, each of them having the upper hand only for a few moments before the other one managed to pull a move to be at an advantage. Oliver kept pulling new arrows out of his quiver, which surprised Barry – shouldn't he have run out of them by now?

When Oliver had his back turned to him for a second, Barry saw his chance. He slammed into the man from behind, removed him of his quiver – which wasn't so easy, Barry had to admit – and pressed him against the nearest wall. Caught by surprise, Oliver dropped his bow and didn't start struggling against him at first.

“I win,” Barry mumbled into Oliver's ear breathlessly. Unfortunately though, super speed didn't mean super strength, and Oliver pushed back. Barry fought, tried to run standing so he could somehow keep the upper hand, but Oliver ducked out of his embrace and Barry crashed face-first into the wall.

“Hey, that hurt!” Barry protested, rubbing his aching nose with his hand. Oliver chuckled and grabbed his wrists, turning Barry around to face him and forced him against the wall. Barry's back hit the cold stone, his wrists hurt where Oliver was holding them.

“You lose,” Oliver whispered. They were nose-to-nose, so close he could see Oliver's eyes under the dark hood and the mask, could identify the different shades of blue; they fixed him with a look so intense Barry didn't dare move. Oliver's thigh was pressed against his; he felt the warmth through both their suits. He let out a shaky breath.

“Fine, you win,” he said quietly, staring back. He knew he should look away but he couldn't. His heart was _thundering_ in his chest, and he hoped to God Oliver wasn't able to hear it.

“That's settled then,” Oliver said, a strange – uncomfortable? confused? Oliver was hard to read – smile on his face. He stepped away from him, and Barry missed the warmth – the _pressure_ – immediately.

Barry stared after Oliver as he walked away. He traced the lines of his figure with his eyes, his bulging biceps, his broad back, his backside-

Barry shook his head. What was up with him today? Maybe it was because Oliver had finally acknowledged him as an equal – he had a place in the Arrow cave (and no, he would never stop calling it that, just because it annoyed Oliver) to put his suit when he was here –, maybe it was the fight that left him like this – sort of weak, slumped against the wall, breathless in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

His lips stretched into a smile when Oliver turned around and yelled, “You coming, Allen?” from across the room. He saw Oliver smile as he stood up straight and ran after him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There's something about you, I can't-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist.  
> This is set right after the crossover episodes. It has nothing to do with next week's mid-season finales, I completely disregarded the promos because we don't know everything that'll happen and I want to keep an open mind :)  
> (Warning: mentions of Iris. I don't really like her though so she won't appear in this.)

A loud knock on the door woke Barry. His head shot up from his desk, a sheet of paper stuck to his cheek. He must've fallen asleep while working. As he got up to open the door (the person on the other side of the door was _persistent_ , almost knocking down his door), he stretched his arms over his head and tried to get the crick out of his neck.

Oliver's furious face greeted him on the other side of the door. Barry's eyes widened.

“Oliver, what-” Barry started but the older man didn't let him finish. He didn't wait to get invited in, rushing into Barry's apartment. “Good to see you. Come on in,” Barry muttered to himself and closed the door.

Oliver was pacing the loft. He seemed agitated. He looked around, eyes wide and unfocused, and Barry started to get fidgety just by watching him.

“D'you want to sit down?” Barry tried. Oliver grunted. “Ooooh-kay. What's going on?”

Oliver turned to look at him, his face in a snarl. Barry instinctively took a step back. “I need a drink. Alcohol.”

Barry didn't waste any time (he didn't want to be on the other end of Oliver's rage, thank you very much), hurried to pour two glasses of scotch. When he got back to the living room area, Oliver had finally sat down on the battered old couch. Barry plopped down next to him and handed him his drink, which the other man chugged as if he was dying of thirst.

“Whoa, slow down.” Oliver ignored him. He leaned forward slightly, putting his elbows on his knees, and pressed the empty glass against his forehead. He slouched his shoulders and sighed, closing his eyes.

Barry caught himself staring at the older man's profile and blushed. He'd been thinking a lot about Oliver and his newly discovered feelings for him since he'd come back to Central City a few days ago. He wasn't used to having a crush on someone who wasn't Iris – and on a man, no less – but here he was, falling hard for somebody he never expected to have feelings for. It was different from his infatuation with Iris, though; when he thought of her, it felt like a warm summer day. When he thought of Oliver, it felt like a freaking hurricane. Iris was lovely, kind, pretty; Oliver was fiery, bold, passionate, challenging. And he'd been on Barry's mind 24/7 for at least a week.

Why did he always fall for people who were _so far_ out of his league?

Barry shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. Oliver must have come here for a reason; he could continue his pining later.

“Ollie?” Barry said quietly, putting a hand on the man's forearm. “What's going on?”

Oliver let out another sigh. “Sara's murder.” Barry took his hand away, winced, and immediately felt guilty. Of course Oliver was angry and devastated and agitated – _he had been_ _in love with Sara_ , and she had been killed. Barry had no right to feel hurt. None. “There's so much going on in Starling, we haven't had time to follow any leads. We still don't have the DNA results. I just-” he groaned. “I'm tired. I'm so tired, Barry.”

Barry was surprised at his confession. Oliver Queen, strong and fierce and stubborn Ollie, admitting a weakness? He definitely wasn't expecting that.

Barry put his untouched scotch on the coffee table and pried Oliver's glass out of his hand before touching his forearm again. “It's okay,” he said quietly. For the first time since Barry had opened the door Oliver looked at him, and his heart skipped a beat. “It's okay to be tired. I- I am too. I've been trying to find my mother's killer for over a decade, and nothing. But- But we have to do this. For them. Sara. My mother. Because we love them.”

“Since when are you so smart,” Oliver mumbled, voice thick, and Barry chuckled.

“Well,” he said with a smirk, “I can't solely rely on my pretty face, now, can I?”

It was meant to make Oliver laugh, but he only smiled sadly at him. Then frowned. Barry blushed. He averted his gaze and rubbed his neck with the hand that wasn't still touching- Oh. He should probably keep his hands to himself.

“Thank you, Barry.” He felt Oliver's eyes on him but didn't dare look. He only nodded and wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans.

“It's- It's fine,” he stammered ( _Could you_ be _more obvious_ , he scolded himself). He cleared his throat and stood. “Well,” he started, turning to face Oliver. “You're welcome to stay here tonight. It's late. I'll make up the couch for you.” He pointed to where Oliver was sitting.

“I'd like that.” The corners of Oliver's mouth lifted slightly, and Barry turned around, rushing to get blankets and pillows. This crush was going to _kill_ him one day, Barry thought with a groan.

 

–

 

It was the middle of the night when Barry was woken up for the second time. He felt a hand on his cheek. “Mmmmh...” He smiled sleepily, leaning into the touch for a moment before he sat up with a start. No one was in his apartment, right? He lived alone. It was a burglar, or someone figured out his identity and was here to kill him, or-

“Relax. It's just me.” Barry's entire body relaxed at the sound of Oliver's voice. Breathing harshly, he looked at where the man was sitting on his bed, _glowing_ in the soft light of the bedside lamp and smiling at him. _Ollie's in my bed_ , he thought giddily. 

“Oh. Hey. Couldn't sleep?”

“No. Couldn't stop thinking.”

Barry swallowed. “About Sara? I'm sure you'll find something soon.”

Oliver have him a sad smile but shook his head. “Thanks. But no, I wasn't thinking about her.”

Oliver scooted closer. Barry was gripping his blanket so hard his knuckles were white.

“There's something about you, I can't-” Oliver stopped and bit his lip.

Was this really happening? Was Oliver here to- to say he liked him? Barry let out a shallow breath and braced himself. This had never happened to him bef- Well, of course he'd only ever liked Iris, and she was his best friend, so yeah, no, it hadn't happened before. But Barry had always been a romantic; he didn't just crush on people, he fell  _hard_ . Oliver being here, right now, made him nervous and excited and  _so happy_ . Barry couldn't suppress a smile. His hand slowly inched closer to Oliver's where it was lying next to his blanket-covered leg; he was desperate to grip Ollie's hand and not let go until-

Suddenly Oliver shook his head and huffed out a breath. “Sorry for waking you. I just- Ugh- Forget it. Go back to sleep. Night.” He stood up and went back to the living room.

Barry held his breath. Had he imagined everything? His head fell back on the pillow, wide eyes fixed on the ceiling. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to figure out why Ollie had woken him up in the first place, why he didn't like him,why----

At one point, hours later, Barry finally let exhaustion take over, and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry with this lol  
> I plan on adding at least one more chapter :)  
> (Also, what's their ship name??)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, uh, are you going back to Starling today?”  
> “Actually, I thought I'd spend the day here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Barry is oblivious and Oliver is emotionally constipated.  
> Eddie and Joe are in this too <3

Apparently, Oliver had gotten hot during the night. Barry swallowed hard when he saw his half-naked shape on the couch. The sweatpants and T-shirt as well as the blanket Barry had given him the night before all lay abandoned on the floor. One of his arms was supporting his head, the other dangling off the couch. Barry's eyes wandered over his back, rising and falling rhythmically ( _so many muscles..._ ), his thick thighs, his backside-

_Get a grip_ , Barry scolded himself. He wanted nothing more than to join Oliver on the couch ( _Get your mind out of the gutter, Allen!_ ) but their 'conversation', if you could even call it that, from last night was still fresh on his mind. He forced himself to go about his usual morning routine. He glanced at Oliver's sleeping form more times than he wanted to admit.

He'd just turned on the coffee maker when he heard soft footsteps behind him.

“Morning,” Oliver yawned.

“Hey. Did you sleep well? I mean... after our, uhm, talk. And you looked pretty comfy out there, so, uh...” Barry bit his tongue. _Smooth_ , he thought.

Oliver came to his side and smiled at him. “I did, thanks.”

Barry nodded and poured coffee into two mugs. “So, uh, are you going back to Starling today?”

“Actually, I thought I'd spend the day here. Come to the station with you. And then STAR labs.”

Barry almost choked on his coffee. “Wh- What? Why?”

Oliver chuckled. “Why not? Want to get rid of me already?” Barry shook his head frantically, and the other man grinned at him. “Great. Let's get going then. Don't want to be late.”

 

–

 

Work was surprisingly uneventful. There weren't any new cases – which was weird, usually there was something strange going on in Central City every day – so Barry tried to catch up on writing old reports that had to be postponed because they weren't a priority. Oliver didn't distract him much (or, at least, not intentionally; but it wasn't Oliver's fault if Barry kept looking up from his desk just to see if he was still there). He wandered around in the station for a bit, talking to some of the people who weren't busy.

Barry was done by lunch time and figured he could take the rest of the day off, so he went to see Joe.

“Hey, kid,” the man said when Barry approached.

“I've finished everything that was on my desk, so, uh-”

“Go ahead, it's a slow day anyway.”

Barry laughed. “Now you jinxed it!”

Joe shrugged and looked at him with a strange smile on his face.

“I don't like that look.”

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Barry saw Joe glance towards Oliver, and he quickly shook his head. Shoot, was he being that obvious?

“Nope. Everything's fine. Better than fine. Perfect, really. Okay, gotta go, bye!”

He hurried to pack his stuff (it was _really_ hard not to use his speed then; he felt Joe's gaze on him and wanted nothing more to get out of here), and called to Oliver that he was done for today.

Just as they were about to exit the building, Barry heard someone call his name and turned around.

“Hey, Allen, you leaving already?” Eddie smiled as he jogged to them.

Barry nodded. “Yeah, I was just going to-”

“I need your help,” Eddie interrupted, taking a step closer. “It's about, uh...” He glanced at Oliver. “Uhm, I'll tell you then.”

“Alright... Do you need me now, or...?”

“Nah, it's fine.” Eddie grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “You enjoy the rest of your day.” Barry smiled in thanks and watched him walk away.

When he looked at Oliver, he saw that the man was frowning in Eddie's direction. He decided not to dwell on it and shrugged it off; Oliver was probably still thinking about Sara, but Barry was sure he'd be fine.

 

–

 

Oliver was _not_ fine. There was definitely something bothering him. For the rest of the day, he snapped at everyone who so much as _looked_ at him, and only grunted in reply when Barry tried to talk to him; Cisco didn't dare to make a joke all day because he was so freaked out. It was a complete 180 from this morning.

“What the hell was that?” Barry hissed when he entered his apartment, Oliver right behind him. The other man only raised his eyebrows in question. “I know you're not the most sociable person, but I thought you- I mean, you know us now, you can't just- and you were so-” Barry stopped with a groan. It was no use expecting Oliver to change his brooding, standoffish ways. He thought the man finally trusted and accepted him as an equal (he had come all the way here to share his worries with Barry, after all, and it had seemed like the older man finally appreciated what Barry could do) but Oliver's behaviour had proved him wrong. He hadn't changed at all.

An unreadable look on his face, Oliver crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin out. “What's going on with you and the detective?”

“What? You mean Eddie? What are you talki-”

“I thought he was dating Iris.”

“He is. What does that have to do w-”

“You two seemed pretty cosy.”

Oh. _Oh._ So Oliver thought- “That- Nothing. Nothing's going on.”

Oliver scoffed. “Right.”

“Why are you acting like this? What's it to you?” Barry hated yelling at people – he believed that you could talk about everything in a calm, composed manner, no matter what it was – but this was so _frustrating_. Oliver didn't answer, only scowled at him, and Barry had enough. “You know what, just go fu-”

He should've seen it coming, really. It wasn't easy to surprise Barry these days, considering that he usually saw movements in slow-motion. He just didn't expect this, not in a million years, so he let out a squeak ( _manly gasp_ , his brain supplied unhelpfully) when Oliver grabbed his face and crushed their lips together, moving against him aggressively. His brain short-circuited; he couldn't _think_ anymore, only felt Oliver's mouth on his and the scratch of his beard against his chin and his rough palms on his cheeks, and his back was pressed against the wall – when had they moved? – and Barry barely had time to close his eyes when-

“I'm sorry, I- I need to go.”

And just like that Oliver disappeared, leaving him sagged against the wall, breathing harshly.

_Shit._

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next week was, to put it mildly, absolutely horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, THIS COMPLETELY DISREGARDS WHAT HAPPENS IN THE MID-SEASON FINALES (even though they were fantastic and also....wtf??). So, no spoilers :)  
> I was listening to All You Had To Do Was Stay by Taylor Swift on repeat while writing this the lyrics are spot-on brace yourselves

The next week was, to put it mildly, absolutely horrible. He didn't even try to hide his bad mood from people; after the first two days they stopped asking what was wrong, knowing that they wouldn't get an answer anyway. The only person who was persistent enough to try to get him to talk was Joe; in any other situation, he'd have been glad that his adoptive father was there for him but this was different. Barry just wanted to _be alone_. Wallow in self-pity. Be sad. But he couldn't do that with someone pestering him.

“Let it go, Joe. Stop bothering me, I'm fine,” he snapped when the man asked him for the millionth time if something was wrong.

“Sorry, can't do that. You're my kid, I _have_ to be annoying. Now, tell me, what's going on? Does it have something to do with...” His voice dropped to a whisper. “...the Arrow? He was back in the city last week, and ever since then you've been a brat.” Barry gaped at him. “You know I love you, but it's true. Now spill.”

“Yeah, maybe later,” Barry mumbled, burying his head in his paperwork. Joe let out a sigh and left to go to his own desk.

Barry honestly didn't mean to upset anyone. He wasn't like that; he wanted to make people _happy_ , not miserable. _It's Oliver's fault anyway_ , he thought to himself, frowning at the papers on the desk. If Oliver hadn't run away after he kissed him – and the thought of the kiss definitely did _not_ make Barry's heart lurch, no, he refused – he wouldn't be like this now. But Oliver clearly didn't want anything to do with him anymore – he hadn't called, hadn't texted, hadn't turned up and confessed his undying love for Barry. Barry groaned and let his forehead fall to the tabletop. Why did Oliver have to be so... so... Barry didn't have _words_ to describe the other man. The ones he knew weren't sufficient – he was pig-headed, and he liked to play with people's feelings, and he was emotionally constipated, and he had the most beautiful smile--

“No,” Barry moaned in annoyance against the desk. He had to _stop_ thinking about Oliver. He was dead to Barry. Yes. He'd given him hope only to crush it. He wasn't a good person. He-

Suddenly he heard someone clear his throat above him, and his head shot up. Eddie was staring at him with raised eyebrows. “You okay there, Allen?”

Barry blushed and nodded. “Y- Yeah. Peachy.”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Right. Well, I need your help with something...”

 

–

 

That evening, Barry came home completely exhausted. He had helped Eddie gather information about the Flash again – well, he'd pretended to, and that was more tiring than anything. For some reason, Eddie seemed to think Barry was the right person to help him with this. If Barry wasn't so tired he'd laugh about the irony.

Barry wanted nothing more than to take a quick shower and go to bed. But his plans were ruined when he saw a slim figure just getting up from his couch.

“What's wrong with you?”

“Felicity, what-”

“Oliver's miserable! What did you do?” Barry almost wanted to laugh – _Oliver was miserable?_ It was his own fault! – but one look at Felicity's furious face to stifle it.

“I didn't do anything... Want something to drink? You look exhausted,” he added. Just because he was a bit sad – or absolutely devastated because of stupid _Oliver_ – didn't mean he couldn't be a good host. And maybe he also wanted to change topics. But Felicity ignored him.

“Ever since he came back home last week he's been isolating himself. No one's been able to get through to him.”

“I didn't do anything,” Barry repeated quietly, sitting down. Was Oliver really in such a bad condition? Barry couldn't help but feel guilty. He didn't want that to happen. He'd thought the older man didn't care about him, at least not _like that_. Was he right? Did Oliver only freak out because they'd kissed and he wasn't gay, or bi, or whatever? Or was there something else? Did he have actual _feelings_ for him and didn't know how to cope with that? Barry put his head in his hands; he felt the beginnings of a headache approaching.

He felt the couch dip and Felicity's hand on his shoulder. “You're not looking so good either. What happened?”

Barry shook his head. He wanted to run to Starling City, to Oliver. He wanted to yell at him, hug him, punch him, kiss him.

“Tell me,” Felicity said gently and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He couldn't help but slump into her, burying his face in her neck. Until now, he hadn't realised how much he'd needed a hug.

“He kissed me,” Barry confessed quietly and felt tears pricking his eyes.

“Oh. That's- Oh. I didn't know-” Barry pulled away; his cheeks reddened. He kind of forgot about her feelings for Oliver, and his feelings for her. Naturally.

Why couldn't someone fall for _him_ for once?

“Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that. I just... didn't expect that.”

Barry bit his lip and shook his head. “No, it- it was nothing. Forget it.”

“Is that why you look like someone kicked your puppy?”

Barry kept shaking his head, not daring to look at her. Yes, they were friends now, but Felicity was in love with Oliver, and Oliver was in love with her, and just the thought of the two of them together suddenly made him sick.

“Barry, you don't look good, are you-”

“I'm fine. Just- leave. Please.”

“Bar-”

“Felicity, _please_.”

“No.”

Barry glared at her, but she only smiled at him sadly. “You're in love with him, aren't you?” Barry pulled a face and opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. Felicity nodded. “You need to tell him.” Barry scoffed but she continued, “I'm serious. I've never seen him – or you – so unhappy.”

“Why is he ignoring me, then?”

“Have _you_ tried calling him?”

Barry said nothing.

“See? Just... try, yeah?”

Barry was quiet for a moment before asking in a small voice, “ _Why did he leave?_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for all your lovely comments, they really keep me going :)  
> I had a really hard time writing this, partly because I'm not in the best condition (I'm ill and sad and busy), partly because apparently I don't know how to write sad Barry it hurts my soul  
> One more thing: For some reason some people seem to really hate Felicity (???) but I love her so no hate please & thank you :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Oliver was really good at not thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS OLIVER'S POV SORRY  
> This is what I do instead of uni assignments yay for me

Oliver wondered when his friends had become so annoyingly perceptive.

Ever since he had come back from Central City last week, Thea and Felicity and Diggle and Roy and even Laurel – who, as far as he could recall, had plenty of her own issues and didn't need to butt in, thank you very much – had been asking him all kinds of intrusive questions: How was Barry? Did they have a fight? Did someone kick his puppy? (Not funny, Thea.)

At one point, Oliver just stopped talking to them. He patrolled the city every night (alone, because Roy was a brat when you didn't tell him what he wanted to know), getting information from Felicity but not replying or asking for backup.

He was _fine_.

Well, at least when he wasn't thinking about _it_. Which he did all day. And at night he dreamt about it – beautiful, wonderful dreams which let him wake up with sticky underwear and a satisfied smile that stayed on his face until he remembered the _problem_.

So, if Oliver was being honest with himself, he wasn't really fine.

He was freaking out. It wasn't that he had a “gay crisis” or something – no, he'd been to college, he was no stranger to kissing men (and doing much, much more). He'd had crushes on male celebrities before. It wasn't really a shock to him that he was – probably, very likely, almost certainly – bisexual.

The problem was that he was sure Barry hated him now. He knew the young man had been in love with his best friend – who was _female_ , Oliver kept reminding himself – his entire life, and he'd never given any indication that he was also attracted to men. Sure, Oliver had thought he and the detective (Edgar or something?) seemed too intimate for work colleagues, but Barry had denied his accusations quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly.

Oliver couldn't stop thinking about the look on Barry's face when he'd kissed him – complete and utter shock. He hadn't run after him when Oliver had left, even though he could've easily caught him. That confirmed it for Oliver – Barry was _not_ interested.

He hadn't called or texted the other man to avoid more embarrassment. He had to _focus_ now. Luckily, there were enough crazy and dangerous people running around in Starling City to keep him busy for the next three decades.

–

“You're gonna need to start talking again soon.” Felicity crossed her arms over her chest.

“You know he won't talk, just let it go,” Roy said from where he was spinning in his chair.

“No way. Now, Oliver, stop ignoring me.”

Of course Oliver heard it, but he chose to ignore Felicity anyway and pulled his hood down. It was early in the morning, he'd just come back from patrol, and somehow the others knew he'd be here because they were already waiting for him and bombarded him with questions as soon as he came in. Still, Oliver tried to push what had happened to the back of his mind and not think about it all the time.

“What's wrong?”

He answered with silence, putting his bow and quiver away.

“You know I won't give up. Tell me what's wrong.”

“Felicity, leave him be, he doesn't want t-”

“Shut up Roy.”

The boy snapped his mouth shut, glaring at her before turning away with a scoff. Oliver had to bite his lip to suppress a smile.

“Fine, if you don't talk to me, I'll get _Barry_ to tell me what's wrong.”

Oliver flinched and almost said something then but stopped himself in time. So what if she went to Central City? Either Barry would keep quiet or he would tell her. Maybe he'd be angry or disgusted. Felicity would be on his side, and they'd never have to interact with the Flash team again.

Yeah, Oliver was _really_ good at not thinking about it.

–

The next day Felicity was still in Central City, Roy left him alone (“Stop being a jerk.”), and Diggle was nowhere to be found in the first place (he was probably home with his wife and daughter, the lucky bastard).

Oliver spent most of his time in his apartment. He didn't see why he should stay at the Arrow Cave ( _Damnit, stop calling it that_ , Oliver scolded himself) when no one else was there and there was nothing to do for once.

Here he was now, sitting on the couch, a piece of cold pizza in his hand. He fished his phone out of his pocket. No missed calls, no texts. Oliver sighed. What was he expecting?

Oliver had finally admitted it to himself – he _liked_ Barry, even though he was irritating and cocky and a know-it-all. He _really_ liked him, so much it hurt. He wanted to be in a relationship with him. He wanted to do all those annoying little things couples did and convince him to maybe come to Starling more often so they could patrol together and fight criminals. He wanted Barry to annoy him and convince him to do stupid things that they'd both eventually regret. He wanted to be reckless with him, and sweet, and yelling at each other in the middle of the night over something stupid, and everything in between. Oliver _wanted Barry_.

He realised he was getting sappy again, but there was no one here to judge him so he didn't see a reason to stop.

He let his head fall on the backrest and closed his eyes, his pizza forgotten. He hated to admit it, it sounded arrogant – and he wasn't _that person_ anymore – but he'd never really had to deal with rejection before. Laurel, Sara, Shado,... even Felicity – they'd all reciprocated his feelings. He'd never had problems finding a date or someone to hook up with. But now...

A sudden, loud knock on the door made him open an eye and glance at the door. It was late; he wasn't expecting anyone. He got up and grabbed his emergency bow, stashed behind the couch, just to be safe. He nocked an arrow, unlocked the door and slowly opened it.

When he saw who was on the other side of the door, he dropped his arms to his sides. His eyes widened.

“Barry.”

“Hey Oliver.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dunnnn


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey Oliver."

Barry let Felicity stay on his couch for the night so she didn't have to find a hotel – it was late, and she was still his friend. He tried not to think about the night Oliver had slept here (and failed miserably).

The next morning, when he was still half-asleep in bed, he felt the mattress dip beside him and a finger poke his cheek. “Get up.” Barry groaned and buried his head under his pillow. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, twisting and turning and trying not to think about Oliver, which, of course, had only made him think about the man more.

Felicity was relentless – she poked and prodded and wrenched his pillow away (she was surprisingly strong for a person her size) and held it above his head, just out of reach.

“Fine, I'm getting up.”

“Great. I'll make coffee, then we'll talk about it.”

Barry grumbled and reluctantly put on a shirt. Hadn't it been enough to talk about what had happened last night? Felicity had made him tell her every single detail of the time Oliver stayed here, from his arrival to the kiss. He didn't see what there was left to talk about.

“So,” Felicity started when he sat down at the kitchen table. “You have feelings for Oliver.”

“I thought we already established that.”

“And he has feelings for you.”

Barry almost choked on his coffee. “What? No, he-”

“Why else would he have kissed you?”

“I don't kn-”

“Why else would he be so unhappy?”

“Felicity-”

“No, listen to me.” Barry couldn't suppress an eye roll but kept his mouth shut. “You two need to _talk_ about this. You're coming with me to Starling today, I'm not leaving without you.” Barry started to protest but she held up a hand. “I can't stand the constant moping. You have to do something about it.”

“Why can't _he_ do something?” Barry was aware he sounded like a petulant child. He didn't particularly care.

“We both know how stubborn Oliver can be. He probably thinks you hate him; he won't make the first move.”

“Why would I hate him?” The notion was ridiculous. Okay, yes, he used to be not-so-fond of him, but that had changed. Drastically.

“Just come with me. Talk it out. _Tell him how you feel_.”

Barry bit his lip, considering it. He didn't want to embarrass himself, but just the thought of seeing Oliver again... He made his decision.

 

–

 

Felicity insisted they take the train. “You have to think about what you're going to say. You can't just run to Starling and then not say anything because you haven't thought about it.” Somehow that made sense.

Getting time off from work was no problem – Joe told him he'd talk to the Captain, that Barry should “fix the mess you made, kid.” (Why did it always have to be _his_ fault? When he asked Joe, he only gave him a look.)

Felicity insisted on bringing it up again on the train. Barry was sick of talking about it.

“I'm sick of talking about it.”

“Don't be silly. Now, what do you think-”

“Felicity, why are you even helping me?” He knew that she was in love with Oliver, had been even before Barry had met her. Why was she encouraging him to be with Oliver instead of going for it herself?

Felicity gave him a sad smile. “I want him to be happy. You, too. He's never going to be with me but you... you're like him. You can defend yourself. You're not so easily breakable.” Barry opened his mouth to protest – Felicity could hold herself well in a fight, he was sure – but she quickly added, “You know what I mean. I'm better with computers than hands-on fights. And, besides... He seems pretty hung up on you.” Barry squeezed her hand (in thanks or for comfort, he didn't know) and stretched his lips into a small smile. Maybe everything would be okay.

 

–

 

_Nothing_ was okay. The closer they got to Starling City, the more nervous and fidgety Barry got. He went over the things he wanted to say to Oliver in his head over and over again ( _Why did you kiss me? Why did you leave? I'm in love with you, please tell me you love me too._ ), trying to calm himself down but to no avail.

His hands were shaking when he walked to Oliver's apartment building (Felicity had told him to run, but Barry was stalling). His heart was in his throat, beating too fast to be healthy. This was it. He was going to tell Oliver about his feelings. This was new territory for him – he wasn't sure how he should do it, if he ought to bring flowers or serenade him or- Okay, so he had watched _a lot_ of romantic comedies in his life, sue him. But he had practically no relationship knowledge himself. Those few dates he'd been on? They didn't really count for much, they'd never led to anything more. This was different. More important.

Barry's body moved on its own, his thoughts somewhere else completely, and he was surprised to see he'd arrived and was already standing in front of Oliver's apartment's door. _This is it, Barry. You can do this._ He took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the door.

After a few minutes (that felt like eons to Barry), the door finally opened. Oliver had his bow and arrow ready (of course, he probably wasn't expecting anyone, he was always prepared for an attack), but as soon as they locked eyes he dropped his arms to his sides.

“Barry.”

Barry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Hey Oliver.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops sorry :D  
> I'm really good at dragging things out heh  
> (I just remembered this was supposed to be a one-shot what the hell happened)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So... What brings you here?”  
> “You've got to be kidding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind comments <3

“Hey Oliver.”

They were quiet for a moment. Barry took in Oliver's appearance; he wore threadbare sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt, his beard scruffy and his eyes bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in days; Barry hadn't looked in a mirror in a while, but he guessed he looked about the same (although he'd been shaving, whereas Oliver looked like a caveman; a cute caveman all the same). Oliver's face was a mask, he didn't let any emotions show, although Barry thought he could see a hint of surprise in his eyes.

Oliver cleared his throat and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

The apartment looked like a battlefield. Clothes were strewn all over the floor. Empty take-out containers littered the kitchen table and sink. There was a pair of shoes on the bookshelf... Barry wasn't sure what to make of _that_ one.

“Sorry, I wasn't expecting company. I'd have cleaned up.” Barry turned around to face Oliver. The older man was watching him with a calculating look on his face. Barry felt his cheeks getting warm under the scrutiny.

Wasn't this the moment they were supposed to fall into each other's arms? Okay, so maybe that was only supposed to happen in the movies, not in real life, but Barry couldn't help but hope for something like it anyways.

Instead, Oliver was on the other side of the room, his eyes still fixed on Barry. _He's too far away_ , Barry thought dejectedly. _He doesn't want to be close. Great._

Barry sat down on the couch when Oliver offered. He wished the other man would sit next to him, but he took the loveseat (that was over five feet away from the couch, _perfect_ ).

“So... What brings you here?”

“You've got to be kidding me,” Barry blurted out before he could stop himself. Oliver raised his eyebrows, his face still unreadable. “You're not going to acknowledge what happened? What- what you did?”

Oliver winced, grimacing, but schooled his face into its usual indecipherable mask again. But Barry had seen his expression. His heart sank. “Oliver, I get that it was a- a mistake.” Oliver nodded and looked away.

_Shit that hurts_. Barry should have been used to rejection by now but this-- His chest felt like Oliver had put some of his fancy arrows into it, and he wasn't healing. He'd actually only meant that Oliver running away was a mistake, but... _You should've expected this. Don't show your hurt. Get out of here as soon as possible._

“We're friends, right?” It was harder to say this than he thought. “I don't want us to not talk.” He'd rather have Oliver as a friend than not in his life at all.

“Sure,” Oliver grunted and stood up. Barry followed.

“Well, good. I- I better go.”

“Stay.” Barry gaped at Oliver. “It's- You don't have to go back today, do you?” Barry shook his head. Why would he want him to- “I need someone to patrol with. Roy's... avoiding me.” Oh. Of course.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“You probably don't have your suit...”

“Felicity made me bring it. It's at her apartment with the rest of my things.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so you-”

“I'm staying at hers.” And he was going to go there _now_ because he couldn't stand being around Oliver anymore. It hurt too much.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

This reminded Barry of when they had first met, when he'd still been intimidated by Oliver's agressiveness and power and good looks... Okay, all these things hadn't changed, but they'd become _friends_ (as much as it pained Barry to think of them in these terms). It shouldn't have been so hard to talk.

He followed Oliver to the door, giving him a small smile before walking out. Oliver grinned.

“See you later.”

_Can't wait_ , he thought sadly.

 

–

 

Patrol was torture.

Why did Oliver's suit have to be so tight? Why did he look so good running and jumping and fighting? And, Barry realised with a shudder, Oliver was still wearing the mask he'd designed.

Oliver didn't seem to notice his moroseness, acted like he always did.

When he got back to Felicity's apartment, she hit him over the head (it was the middle of the night, what was she even doing awake?). “You idiot. I told you to talk to him.”

“I did- _Ow_ , stop! I did talk to him!” Barry defended himself, raising his arms over his head protectively.

She rolled her eyes. “And why are you here, then? Why aren't you at his place or, more precisely, why aren't you in his _bed_?”

“Felicity!”

“What? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it.”

“That doesn't mat- Wait, have _you_ thought about me and Oliver...?”

Her face went red and she looked away. “I- That has nothing to do with it!”

“Whatever,” Barry shrugged and plopped down on the sofa, still in his suit. “He doesn't want... this. Me. I'll get over it.” Secretly, he wasn't so sure about that.

“Did you tell him how you feel?”

“I- I said it was a mistake. I meant that he ran away. He probably thought I meant the kiss. He agreed.” Felicity groaned and hit him again. Barry yelped. “Hey, stop that! What did I do?”

“ _You_ ,” she poked him in the chest, “are a dumbass. Big time.” Barry frowned. “Why won't you just _tell_ him that you're in love with him? What's the worst that can happen?”

“Uhm, I don't know, he could shoot me with an arrow?!”

“He wouldn't do that. Probably. On the other hand- No, no, he wouldn't. You guys are friends.” His hurt must've shown on his face, because Felicity's expression softened and she squeezed his arm. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean- You really should tell him. If only to get it out there, lessen your pain.”

Barry nodded slightly and wrapped his arms around Felicity's waist when she pulled him into a hug. “It'll be fine,” she whispered into his ear.

But would it really be fine? What if he did tell Oliver how he felt, and the other man rejected him again? Barry had never been so uncertain about something in his life, but he promised himself – and Felicity, quietly, just so she didn't have to endure his whining anymore – that he'd make a decision in the morning. And if Oliver didn't want him, well... He'd cross that bridge when he got there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Felicity tbh  
> So far I've been controlling these two just fine, but they've developed a mind of their own. I tried to get them to T A L K but they decided to be shucks. Boys *sighs*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making the decision to talk to Oliver about his feelings and actually doing it were two very different things, Barry found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: FROM HERE ON MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE ARROW MIDSEASON FINALE (3x09)  
> There's finally something happening other than moping and pining yay

Making the decision to talk to Oliver about his feelings and actually doing it were two very different things, Barry found.

Okay, yes, he chickened out of doing it the next day. Felicity's death glare when she found out he was too much of a coward to do it was enough punishment. She asked ( _threatened_ ) him to stay for a few more days and “get a grip, Barry, this is pathetic”.

Oliver was visibly surprised to see him again, but didn't ask why he wasn't going home yet. He just smiled and took Barry on patrol with him again.

When Felicity found out he was still stalling two days later, she hit him over the head. Again. Barry was getting really tired of that (when he told her that, she replied that she would stop if he talked to Oliver; he only rolled his eyes, and then ran to the guest room where he was staying when she glared at him).

So, yes, he hadn't told Oliver, but he was fine with that. He guessed. They were back to being friends, they were speaking to each other again, and they actually had fun during patrol. Alright, he was still distracted by Oliver's... everything, but he could deal with that until he found the guts to tell him. It couldn't be that hard, right?

 

–

 

“Barry, you okay?” Barry startled; he'd been admiring Oliver's leather-clad biceps when the other man brought him out of his reverie. “You seem distracted.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Everything's fine.” He was sure his cheeks matched the colour of his suit. Thankfully it was dark, and the chance that Oliver saw his blush was slim.

Oliver shrugged it off and adjusted the strap of his quiver around his shoulders even though it wasn't loose. Barry understood why he seemed so nervous – it was too quiet for a city like Starling. It was almost impossible that not at least one person was planning to do something crazy and illegal.

“It's too quiet,” Oliver repeated his thoughts in a low voice. Barry nodded and sat down next to him on the edge of the skyscraper they were standing on. He swung his legs and tapped a little melody on the cold concrete with his fingers (it was so _boring_ , Barry almost wished a crime would happen just so they had something to do) until he realised Oliver was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Barry asked defensively and stilled his fingers and legs. Oliver smiled and shook his head.

“How's Felicity doing?”

Barry frowned. “She's at Verdant every day, don't you see her there?” Oliver shrugged. Huh, interesting. Felicity had mentioned that Oliver had been quiet but... “Well, she's good.”

“Good.” Barry opened his mouth to ask what was going on but Oliver continued, “I'm- I'm happy for you. You two... could be great together.”

Wait, _what_? Barry gaped at him. Did Oliver really think they were- Him and Felicity? Really? Well, okay, he might've liked her once, but... _What_? “What? Oh god, we're n-”

“Guys, there's a commotion two blocks from you,” Felicity's voice came in over Barry's headpiece. “Some sort of chemical accident, probably an explosion. Looks dangerous.” _Perfect timing,_ Barry thought and barely suppressed a groan.

“On our way,” Barry said and looked at Oliver as they both got up. The other man nodded slightly, not meeting his eyes.

 

–

 

The site of the accident wasn't hard to find – they could spot the fumes from several streets away. They pressed pieces of cloth against their noses and mouths so they wouldn't faint.

The police and several ambulances were already there, treating unconscious (Barry hoped; he didn't dare think they were anything else) people and questioning witnesses. Everyone was thankfully wearing gas masks.

The dark grey fumes were coming from a small-ish building almost completely hidden by the crowd of people; a chem lab, probably.

“I'll try to sneak around them and find another door, you run in through the front entrance,” Oliver whispered and practically vanished in the shadows before Barry could even nod.

Barry ran through the crowds of people, glad they were all too busy to notice him. He slipped in through the half-open door and leaned against the nearest wall, surveying the gloomy room until Oliver squeezed through a high window to his left. Barry ran to him to help him get to the floor without injuring himself, but he had apparently forgotten who he was with; Oliver landed on the floor without a sound, graceful and smooth. Barry rolled his eyes and mumbled “show-off”. Oliver must've heard; Barry could see his smirk half hidden by the hood over his head.

Oliver was checking the room where he had entered while Barry ran to the back room. This had to be where the explosion took place; the walls were covered in soot, the floor was wet and holey because of various chemical substances. Barry was careful to watch his step; you never knew what chemicals could do to you, as he knew from his own experience.

Suddenly he felt a piercing pain in his lower back; when he reached around, an arrow was sticking out of his back. “Very funny,” he said with a grin and turned around.

But Oliver wasn't the one who had shot him (this time, at least). “Who're you?” he asked, careful to make his voice vibrate. A girl a few years younger than him was standing on the other side of the room. She had short hair, a bow and arrow ready to be shot in her hands, and a look on her face that chilled Barry to his bones. She seemed too young to even know this expression.

“You're working with the Arrow,” she whispered in an accusing tone. Oh, brilliant. One of Oliver's enemies. Barry knew he shouldn't have hoped this was just a normal accident; he'd jinxed it.

For some reason, the girl seemed familiar to him; he was sure he'd seen her before but couldn't put a name to her face.

She shot an arrow at him, and he dodged it easily. But she already had another one nocked, and then another, and Barry almost felt sorry for her. Didn't she see she had no chance to shoot him again?

The pain in his lower back didn't subside; Barry rubbed the spot and wondered why he wasn't healing. The girl smiled when she noticed.

At first Barry thought he only imagined it but... was he getting slower? The girl shot another arrow at him and hit his arm. Barry cried out. He ripped the arrow out and quicky looked at it. The tip was covered in something sticky.

Barry tried to avoid the girl's shots but the longer they did their strange dance around each other, the slower he was getting. It had to have something to do with her arrows.

It got harder to move his limbs. Every time an arrow pierced his skin, the pain seemed to get worse. He felt dizzy, out of breath, as if he was hallucinating.

The girl was standing over him and laughed; he didn't even notice he'd fallen to his knees. She kicked him in the chest and he fell on his back with a groan. His entire body hurt, he couldn't move; her hollow laugh was the last thing he heard before everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! (especially KisaraP, yours absolutely make my day :D )  
> I wasn't sure if Barry ever met Thea but I don't think so??


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Barry woke up, he couldn't move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Thea a bit (a lot?) more psychopathic than she probably is oops sorry angel I still love you

When Barry woke up, he couldn't move. Around his middle were two thick, heavy steel straps; smaller ones were around his wrists and ankles, another one around his head. Barry tried to flex his fingers but to no avail. There was a gag in his mouth, rendering him unable to cry for help. The room was dimly lit, and when he looked down he could see a sticky substance, the same that had been on the arrows that had hit him. Barry groaned. He startled when he heard a small chuckle; it sent shivers down his spine.

“Good morning, sunshine,” the archer who had brought him down said with a dark smile on her face. Barry glared at her. “Now, you're gonna tell me exactly where the Arrow is. Then I'll let you go. Maybe.” He screamed insults around the gag, and she smirked. “Oh, right. That.” She took a step closer. Barry couldn't shake the feeling that he ought to know her. There was something familiar about her. Her eyes... he'd definitely seen those eyes before. “I'll let you speak if you promise to behave. Blink once if you're going to be a good boy.” Barry blinked. Maybe she'd let him go if he worked some of that charm he didn't really have.

“Who are you?” was the first thing out of Barry's mouth.

The girl smiled. “That's not important. Just tell me everything you know about the Arrow.”

“Never!” he screamed, trying to thrash around as much as possible – which is to say, his muscles still wouldn't move so his body didn't make a move. “You leave him alone!”

“My, my. You would risk torture just to protect some random vigilante?”

Barry didn't even think before answering. “I'd die for him!”

The girl's smile got brighter. “Oh, I see what's happening here... This is going to be so much fun.” Before Barry could even blink, she rammed an arrow into his shoulder and he cried out in pain, screwing his eyes shut. He realised he wasn't healing immediately; the substance on the arrowhead must have had something to do with it.

“Tell me where the Arrow is.”

“N- No.”

The girl's smile faded slightly and she brought a hand up to stroke his cheek. The tips of her fingers were ice-cold. “Oh,” she tutted. “I didn't expect you to be so... resilient. I'll have to up my game.” She carefully removed the steel band around his head. Until now, Barry hadn't realised how much it hurt. Pain slowly spread across his forehead and he whimpered. He was going to have a _major_ headache later. That is, if the girl didn't kill him.

“Now, let's see who's under that pretty little mask...”

Barry barely got to choke out a “No!” before the girl dug her cool fingers under his mask and pulled it over his head. Barry held his breath when the girl cocked her head, a thoughtful look on her face. He thought he could see her eyes soften a little. “Aren't you...” she started.

_Shit shit shit shit shi-_

The girl shook her head, her eyes cold and hard again. She took a step back, pulled out her phone and took a picture of him. Barry almost laughed – it was such a simple and ordinary thing, a young girl taking a picture with her phone – but he reminded himself that there was nothing funny about it. She could expose his identity by posting it on the internet, or sending it to a friend (or an accomplice?); his life as he had grown to know it could be over in mere seconds.

The girl put her phone away and held the arrow up again. “Now, let's talk.”

 

–

 

The hours bled together. Barry lost all sense of time. He could have been here for a day, or a week, or a month. The only thing he could feel was the constant pain, almost blinding him. Every once in a while, the girl would give him water and food, just enough to keep him alive. At first he hadn't wanted to accept anything she gave him, but after a while his body was so dehydrated and weak that he didn't have another choice but to take what she offered him.

Often, the girl would talk to him about her plans. Barry guessed she didn't have anyone to talk to in her life – she was always here with him, only leaving the room to get water and food.

“You don't have to tell me anything about the Arrow,” she said with a smile, sitting cross-legged in front of him. “I bet he'll come to try and rescue you any day now.” Barry glared at her weakly. He didn't want to say it out loud, didn't want to give her more ammunition against both himself and Oliver, but he secretly hoped that she was right.

Barry fell in and out of consciousness every few hours (he guessed; he didn't know what day or time it was, after all). He had hoped that the constant pain would numb after a while but it flared up again and again, and the girl kept hitting him with arrows, using him as target practice.

Barry was strong – he _knew_ he was, he'd been through hell and back. So far, he hadn't cracked; he'd always had people who supported and helped him through the worst times. But now he couldn't help but wonder how long he could endure this before he broke.

 

–

 

A loud crash woke him up. When he opened his eyes, he saw the door hanging out of its hinges and a silhouette that should've been familiar to him in the doorway. He tried to dig through his brain for a name, a face, _anything_ , but was too exhausted to come up with something.

“Thea Queen,” a low voice boomed through the small room. Barry fought to keep his eyes open.

“I knew you'd be here,” the girl's voice answered. The girl... Thea... Thea _Queen_? Oliver's sister. Barry frowned. That didn't make sense... His head hurt.

“Let him go.”

“Make me.”

Barry closed his eyes again. He heard a series of _woosh_ ing noises. He was so tired. Why couldn't they let him sleep?

Screams pierced his ears. Hands were on his cheeks. He passed out again with a small smile on his face.

_Sleep. Finally._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time writing this and I'm not happy with it at all. Sorry :/


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Barry?” Barry let out a quiet sob when he recognised the voice. “Barry, it's me.”

Barry woke up – that in itself surprised him; the last time he'd closed his eyes, he thought it'd be forever – and cracked his eyes open just a bit. He immediately closed them again; the light was blinding, harsh, stinging his sensitive eyes. Someone cursed, and he heard quick footsteps and the click of a light switch.

Slowly he realised where he was; not where _exactly_ , but there was a soft pillow under his head and a not-so-soft mattress digging into his back and a blanket covering his body. He sighed. This was a million times better than being chained to a stone wall.

Barry tried to flex his fingers, just to see... Yes, he could move them again, but it hurt like hell. He groaned.

Suddenly there was a hand on his, and he startled so much that he shot up, out of the bed he'd been lying in, rushed to the wall furthest away from it and almost fell to his knees. His entire body shook; the pain throbbed in his muscles, and he could taste blood – he had bitten down hard on his lip to avoid a scream. His eyes were unfocused; he could see a blurry figure approaching him slowly.

“Barry?” Barry let out a quiet sob when he recognised the voice. “Barry, it's me.” He fell forward, barely avoided falling on his aching knees as two arms grabbed him under his armpits and dragged him back to the bed. He curled up in a foetal position, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping an arm around them.

“Oliver,” he sobbed, gripping one of the man's hands tightly, letting his tears wet the pillow.

Oliver wrapped his fingers around Barry's and cupped their joint hands with his free one. He didn't tell Barry that he was safe, that he'd be fine; he didn't say anything. He only held his hand until Barry's sobs quieted and he finally fell back asleep.

 

–

 

The next two days were a blur. Barry was asleep most of the time, letting Oliver feed him soup and toast in the short periods when he wasn't.

_Oliver..._ He was always there when Barry woke up, sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair next to the bed. At one point Barry realised that this was _Oliver's_ bed, and wondered where the other man slept at night, but he was too exhausted to get up and let him have his bed back. Oliver didn't seem to mind; at least he didn't say anything about it.

On the third day after he first woke up in Oliver's apartment, Barry started to feel better. The pain became less, although it was still there, a dull presence in the back of his mind.

It was the first time Oliver wasn't there when he woke up. Barry sat up slowly, stretching his stiff arms over his head. He heard clanging noises from the kitchen and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Barry was shaky on his legs; he didn't dare run, but walked slowly, one hand one the wall to support himself. He was still a bit dizzy; Oliver had given him something against vertigo last night but it had already worn off.

He must have been louder than he thought; suddenly Oliver was standing in the doorway, steadying him by gripping his elbow and wrapping an arm around his waist. Barry flushed; in the past few days they'd had a _lot_ of physical contact but now that his mind was clear again he was aware of the heat Oliver radiated, and his smell, and the feeling of his calloused palms on his bare arm, and-

Barry suddenly realised how he must've looked and smelled; he'd probably been wearing the same _underwear_ for a week! He took a step back, hit his hip on the door handle and cried out; his body was still tender, struggling to recover from the countless little injuries and the lack of movement.

Oliver gave him a concerned look as he rubbed the bruise gently (Barry had a hard time breathing, his flush getting deeper), and Barry was embarrassed; it hadn't hurt _that_ much, he was acting like a child. He was a freaking _superhero_ , a little bruise was the least of his worries.

Oliver led him to the kitchen and pushed him down in a chair; seconds later, a mug of tea, a plate of pancakes and a fork were in front of him. This was too much – why was Oliver doing this? Did he pity him? Barry didn't want anyone's pity; he was fine, he didn't need to be babied.

“Oliv-”

“Eat.”

“But-”

“Barry,” Oliver said with an exasperated smile. “Just eat. We'll talk later.”

Barry wanted to protest but his stomach interfered – it growled embarrassingly loud, as if he hadn't had anything to eat in a year. Oliver chuckled and he blushed.

Barry grabbed the fork with a sigh. He _was_ hungry, and the pancakes smelled heavenly, so he decided to humour Oliver and eat.

When he was done Oliver insisted that Barry stay seated, and cleared the table himself.

“C'mon, let's get you back to bed.” Oliver grabbed his arm and helped him up. Barry was feeling slightly better physically; thinking back to what had happened to him, however, scared him.

He crawled onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Oliver sat opposite of him, legs crossed and hands on his knees. His fingers were twitching, as if he wanted to grab something.

“Okay. Let's talk.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two won't let me sleep :/  
> Kids, don't let fictional characters live in your head, it'll ruin your life. And also make you appear insane to others.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let's talk.”

“Let's talk.”

Barry nodded and took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. However, he didn't expect what came out of Oliver's mouth.

“Thea killed Sara.”

Barry gaped at him. “But- But she knew her. They... Why would she do that?”

Oliver frowned. “I don't think she knew it was Sara. Thea just... knew she was working with me. She- That's why she had you. She was trying to get to me.” Oliver gave him a sad smile and looked away.

Barry wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him somehow, but he didn't know where the boundaries were. Was it okay to hug? To hold hands? Or was he supposed to back off now that he was better? Barry tried to make Oliver feel better with his words instead. “It's fine. I- I'm okay... or, I _will_ be okay.” Oliver frowned at him. “I'll help you stop her.”

“She's my sister,” Oliver said in a small voice. Barry grimaced; of course he understood what it was like to want to protect his family. Thea was the only family Oliver had left. But she was dangerous; she wanted her brother dead, and would stop at nothing to achieve her goals (although he knew Thea didn't know the Arrow's identity; if she found out, she probably wouldn't want to kill him anymore).

“We're not going to kill her,” Barry assured him. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. “We'll just... talk to her. Both of us. I'd rather not deal with her on my own again.” He shuddered when he remembered what he'd been through. “I haven't felt this helpless in years,” he quietly admitted. “Not since my mother...” He stopped abruptly, his eyes stinging with tears. When he looked up, he saw that Oliver's eyes were fixed on him. He shook his head and smiled sadly. “Anyway, it was weird not being able to move. I don't want a repeat of that.”

“Felicity sent one of the arrows that hit you to Central City. They'll analyse it and we'll know why you couldn't move.”

Barry nodded. “What about Thea?” His eyes widened in shock when he remembered the photos she took of him without his mask. “She- Her phone-”

“I know,” Oliver interrupted. “Don't worry, it's taken care of.” Barry made a questioning noise, and Oliver gave him a look that said _Don't ask_. So he kept his mouth shut.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Oliver cleared his throat. “So, uh, now that you're better... I could bring you over to Felicity's. I guess you'd want to stay with her. She had to work late all week so she couldn't take care of you but now...”

Barry raised his eyebrows. “Wh- Why would I... I mean. You want me to leave?”

Oliver frowned. “Don't you want to be with your girlfriend?”

Barry barked out a laugh and Oliver looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. He'd almost forgotten their conversation on the rooftop. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“We're- We're not together.”

“But last year...”

“We agreed to be just friends.” Barry swallowed hard before continuing. “I- I like someone else.”

Oliver's face fell slightly. “Oh, right. Your friend. Uhm... Iris, was it?”

“No. I mean, yes, her name's Iris, but... no. Not her.” _This is it, Barry. You can do this._ “I like-”

“Detective Pretty Boy?”

Barry snorted and punched Oliver's arm lightly. “Will you shut up for a second so I can actually tell you?”

“Sorry,” Oliver grinned at him, not looking sorry at all.

Barry's heart leapt; he bit his lip, his face flushed, his hands gripped the blanket underneath him tightly. This was it. Either Oliver would reciprocate his feelings or reject him. He could lose a friend, or gain something _more_. “I'm... I...” Oliver's attention was still focused on him; his eyes were bright, a small smile on his lips, his hands close to Barry's legs.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. In fact, Barry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so safe and warm and happy. Words would ruin the moment. Barry scooted closer, taking a shaky breath. Oliver's eyes darkened. He raised a hand to cup Oliver's neck, leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

Oliver's reaction starled Barry – he didn't expect the moan, he didn't expect the rough hands framing his face, he _certainly_ didn't expect to be pushed down on his back with Oliver hovering over him.

Barry grinned against his lips and wrapped his arms around Oliver's neck, craning his head up to deepen the kiss. Oliver's lips were slightly chapped but still _so soft_ against Barry's; he was fierce and gentle at the same time, trailing one of his hands from Barry's cheek down his neck to rest it over his frantically beating heart. Barry breathed in through his nose sharply and opened his mouth a little, licking at Oliver's lips until he was granted entrance. He groaned into Oliver's mouth, clawing his fingers into the short hairs in the nape of his neck.

It was over much too soon for Barry's liking, but he guessed they had to breathe once in a while. He lay on his side, Oliver right next to him with an arm under his head, fingers playing with Barry's hair. Barry sighed, cupping Oliver's neck and stroking his thumb over the pulse point.

“So...” Oliver interrupted the silence. “You like... _the Arrow_?”

Barry laughed and pushed his shoulder before leaning in to kiss him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY (I'm crying)  
> One more chapter :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *1 year later*

**1 Year Later – Christmas Eve.**

 

“Honey, I'm home!” The keys jingled as Barry twirled them in his hands. He grinned when he heard the loud groan from the kitchen and dropped his heavy bag on the floor.

“I told you not to call me that!” Oliver called.

Barry grinned when his boyfriend appeared in the doorway. “What do I call you then? Babe? Darling? Sweetums?”

Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, an unimpressed look on his face. “How about you call me by my given name.”

Barry stepped closer to him, still grinning, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “As you wish Oliver. Jonas. Queen.” He punctuated each word with a short peck to Oliver's lips until the other man relaxed into his embrace.

“Missed you,” Oliver mumbled against his lips. Barry hummed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Oliver's. Maintaining a long-distance relationship wasn't easy. They lived 600 miles apart and sure, it didn't take Barry long to get to Starling City, but he seemed to be constantly busy with his job, his friends, and trying to protect his city. He had a pretty good life, but he didn't get to see his boyfriend as often as he'd like. Spending Christmas in Starling City was a compromise he was happy to make. (When he'd told Joe about his plans, the man had only given him a knowing look.)

They swayed on the spot for a moment until Barry had to laugh. “Look at us,” he said quietly. Oliver pulled away and gave him a questioning look. “We act like we haven't seen each other in a year.”

Oliver grabbed him by the hips and dragged him with him as he walked backwards into the living room. “It certainly felt like it,” he said as he plopped down on the couch. Barry tumbled after him, laughing quietly until Oliver shut him up by crushing their lips together. Barry had to force himself to pull away; he actually wanted to _talk_ to Oliver before they got too carried away to think straight.

“Five days isn't that long,” he muttered against Oliver's lips before pulling back. Oliver made a disgruntled noise, pushing his hands into the back pockets of Barry's jeans to tug him closer. “Ollie...” Barry sighed exasperatedly. If he told anyone that _the_ Oliver Queen was cuddly and adorably needy when it was only them... well, no one would believe him. He couldn't suppress a groan when he felt Oliver's stubbly chin and soft lips on his jaw. “No hickeys,” he breathed, and Oliver stopped immediately. He didn't usually mind hickeys, but...

“We need to talk.”

Oliver stiffened, his eyes wide and pleading. “Don't break up with me on Christmas. Don't- Don't break up with me _ever_. Barry, you can't do this, I know we don't always see eye to eye but I love you and-”

“Stop!” Barry yelped. Oliver shut his mouth instantly. “I don't- _Why_ would I break up with you?” Oliver grimaced and Barry sighed. “No, none of that self-hating shit, okay? We already established that you're amazing and you deserve good things, when are you going to start believing it?” Oliver shrugged and looked away. Barry let out a deep breath and pressed a soft kiss to his boyfriend's cheek before laying his head on his shoulder. “I just wanted to talk about your talk with Thea today.” Oliver's sister had found out that he was the Arrow a few weeks after she'd kidnapped and tortured Barry. At first it had looked like she would kill him anyway, but they'd been trying to reconcile in the past month. It was still a sore subject, but Barry had been there for Oliver from the beginning, so he wasn't afraid to ask. He knew that Oliver knew he could lean on him when things got rough.

“She's fine,” Oliver said quietly. Barry burrowed his face into his neck, and Oliver leaned his head on his. “She's spending the holidays with her... father. She even asked what I'm doing for Christmas. I told her I'm spending it with you, and she congratulated me.”

Barry snorted. “Why?”

Oliver pressed a kiss to his temple. “Why not? You're a catch.”

Barry grinned, punching him into the chest lightly. “Idiot.”

“I love you too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S IT GUYS :(  
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, etc - it means the world to me :)  
> Happy holidays <3  
> (btw I was thinking of doing a one-shot series related to this sometime soon because I have some more ideas (: )
> 
> EDIT:   
> one-shot series [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/191537)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Squirrel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157793) by [AnthemGlass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnthemGlass/pseuds/AnthemGlass)




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